


sometimes

by daftusername



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, Gender Issues, Genderfluid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daftusername/pseuds/daftusername
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ruby thinks maybe if she kills enough monsters, the snake in her stomach will go away when she gets called "daughter" every day</p>
            </blockquote>





	sometimes

the first time ruby realized that she did not feel like a girl was when she was 13 years old and a dress felt right but her mother calling her “my daughter” felt wrong. it was like a spark of lightning in the base of her spine and she did not know how to put words to the feeling, but she knew it had to do with who she was, deep inside. that day, she finished the fairy tale she had been struggling with on her own. she imagined herself in that suit of armor and couldn’t see a breastplate that would fit her feeling. she hugged her pillow that night and wished she was fighting monsters instead of thinking.

two days later, “daughter” felt right again and it was like her world was turned right side up again, and she laughed more and started drifting away from the monsters that she imagined killing at night. she files away those two days in the cabinet she keeps the other things she doesnt want to think about. 

five months pass and then it’s there again, a certainty in her center that hurts, throbs, whenever people call her something she isn’t. she isn’t a girl that day, isn’t a wife or a mother. she scratches at her skin until she decides to grab a piece of paper and start designing her ideal weapon. a scythe comes to life on the paper without her even realizing; she had thought maybe a sword, or a gun, something that would separate her from her uncle. but it came without her thinking about it, the curve of the blade and the glimmer of the trigger, the red colored pencil grabbed before she could think about it, shading in the weapon she knew was hers. she writes “crimson rose” on the bottom before allowing herself to think, then puts the drawing under her pillow. she dreams of monsters lying around her, her rose dripping with blood and a smile on her face. 

at beacon she thinks, you don’t think about things like correct words or identity when you’re training to save the world.


End file.
